


caught in a dream

by mosalyng



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Magic AU, dream seller au, kinda angsty but also soft, the rest of 96line and seungkwan are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-02
Updated: 2017-12-02
Packaged: 2019-01-31 06:57:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12676728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mosalyng/pseuds/mosalyng
Summary: Junhui keeps dreaming about the boy who visits his shop and makes the lines between fantasy and reality blur.





	caught in a dream

On Junhui’s seventh birthday, his mother takes him to a dream selling shop which has been owned by the Wen family for decades.

It’s located in the city center, but somehow hidden from the crowd. The alley is quiet, filled with small businesses and old houses. Upon reaching it, the first thing Junhui notices is the sweet and floral scent that can be smelled from a few meters away.

Once inside, the boy slowly takes in the interiors; curiously watches the potion making station and studies shelves that cover entire walls, stacked with bottles and jars of different sizes. Some are dusty, some look new, but it doesn’t slip his mind that each and every vessel contains a liquid representing a color of the rainbow.

When Junhui looks up at his mother with a face of wonder, she smiles sweetly and crouches down to match his height.

“One day, you will be the owner of this place. We sell dreams - the things that you see while sleeping. Sometimes a monster appears, right? We create drinks that can cure that as well,” she says softly, petting her son’s head.

Junhui has no idea what a dream is, since he, despite what his mother believes, has never had one. Intuition tells him it’s not something he should be proud of, so he doesn’t tell his mother about confusion he feels and silently watches bubbles pop in a big kettle near the counter.

 

_

 

Thirteen years later, Junhui works in the shop as a part timer. You have to start from the bottom, his parents said, and so he does. Learns potion recipes by heart and studies herbs needed to make them, everything while trying to reconcile work with his acting studies and busy schedule.

During his shifts, the space of the counter is usually taken up by old rolled papers and screenplays he has to memorize. Junhui would lie if he said he doesn’t like it. Customers love him, especially adorable old ladies (I should introduce you to my granddaughter!; a kind smile in response), so that’s definitely a plus. Sometimes a new face appears and Junhui patiently explains the rules and colors; red for romance, yellow for happiness, green for ambitions, blue for calmness, purple for sex, white for everyday life, black for fighting back nightmares. Drinking each makes you dream about the thing you’ve chosen. It’s a type of light magic, nothing more.

Although acting has always been his ambition, Junhui doesn’t mind the thought of owning the shop. It’s become a crucial part of him, something to be proud of, and it would be a shame to turn his face away from his heritage; as a result, he spends every free moment in the shop, working on potions and cleaning kettles in the “staff only” room while reciting lines from his favorite plays.

 

_

 

It’s almost closing time when Junhui sees him for the first time. He stops cleaning dust off the bottle and greets the customer with a sincere smile. “What would you like to dream about today?”

The stranger blinks a few times as he takes in the hundreds of bottles, dried flowers, rolled papers. His face is painted with an expression of confusion, not so different from the one usual new customers show.

“Wait, you’re a new face, right? Would you like me to explain?” Junhui says upon realizing his mistake.

“No, I can deal.” The boy answers and disappears between the shelves, much to Junhui’s amusement.

After fifteen minutes, most of them spent by the grumpy stranger wandering around the shop looking confused, the man opens his mouth again and mutters, “Yeah, okay. I have no idea what those are, so I’m just gonna ask. Is there any possibility of having a prophetic dream?”

“Not really. We can’t do that, it’s kinda against the rules. The dreams we sell are made for the sole purpose of helping you dream nice things, you know. But you can tell me your name and describe yourself shortly, I’ll recommend something,” Junhui says, smiling teasingly.

“It’s Jihoon,” the boy answers, looking slightly annoyed. A long pause follows. “I - uh. I’m a music producer. I love doing it, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no point in continuing if I’m going to have to eat ramen for the rest of my life. That’s why I wanted to check. I know it may sound dumb.”

“It’s not dumb,” Junhui answers and hands Jihoon a jar of green liquid. “And that’s ambition. You’ll dream about your future, but I can’t guarantee it being prophetic. There’s a chance, though.”

“I’ll take it,” Jihoon says, laying a bill on the counter. “What did you need my name for, though?”

“Future reference,” Junhui winks, watching Jihoon blush and turn around, vaguely waving him goodbye.

 

_

 

That night, Junhui dreams for the first time in his life.

It's not special; an average person would say it's boring, even. But Junhui, who is so used to his nights being an epitome of emptiness, even seeing faded, formless shadows is more that he dared to wish for.

Even after many years, the fact that Junhui was born with inability to dream is a well-kept secret. Not even his mother knows, and she’s a walking Wen Junhui encyclopedia. This condition, as Junhui calls it, is not unheard of. In a world ruled by magic everything is possible; multiple studies have been carried out, leading to a discovery of various medicines. Junhui knows it; knows there’s nothing to be ashamed of. He’s read every book written on the topic, tried out every pill doctors have prescribed him, but nothing has helped.

That is, until he’s met Jihoon.

_

 

Said boy comes back the next day, hands red from cold and breathing a little ragged. Autumn is settling in; the sun sets low on the horizon as the wind makes home in people’s bones.

“Hi,” Junhui says, the way he usually does to welcome a familiar face of a regular customer. It’s his rule to treat them like friends; he often asks about their dreams while fighting off a feeling of envy and preparing a cup of tea for them to drink during their stay.

“It fucking worked,” Jihoon answers, apparently not caring about greetings. “A company has contacted me this morning when I was fucking eating my breakfast, it was exactly the same in my dream.”

Junhui grins. It's a happy smile; something has worked in favor of both of them, it seems. Although he’s still high on excitement, the events of the night remain unspoken; Jihoon is too far gone in his own revelation, it seems.

“A customer’s happiness makes me happy as well,” he answers.

“Yeah. Thank you,” Jihoon says with a small smile that reaches his eyes and points at a red bottle. “I’ll take this.”

After Jihoon’s leave, Junhui goes back to crushing herbs for a calmness potion and tries to shake off a weird feeling lingering in his mind.

 

_

 

That night, Junhui dreams about Jihoon.

They’re kissing as if they weren’t almost complete strangers. The place they’re in is packed with people whose faces Junhui can't recognize, but it doesn't matter; he can only notice Jihoon, his eyes filled with warmth, a small smile directed only at him. The other man buries his face in Junhui’s chest as two other people approach the table; he has never seen them before, but Jihoon apparently has, since he raises his head and greets them excitedly.

As they’re riding a taxi few hours later, heads spinning and smiles lazy, Jihoon silently tells Junhui he loves him. No answer is given; the flashes of reality fill Junhui’s head as he finds himself unable to do anything but pretend to be asleep.

 

_

 

Embarrassment hits him like a tidal wave the next day as Jihoon’s eyes find his after entering the shop. Eye contact is almost impossible to maintain, and there’s a shift in the customer’s behavior; a blush creeps up his cheeks, reminding Junhui of a rose in full bloom.

“Did you dream about me today?” is the first thing Jihoon says, eyes pointed at the floor.

“Hello to you too,” Junhui answers, trying to hide his own feelings. The other man just stands there, hands in the paws of his oversized sweater. “Do you want me to?”

Jihoon scoffs, making the tension disappear. “Yeah, you wish.”

Junhui, however, tries to stay afloat, tries not to let his mind feel remorse; lying was never an option he considered, but shyness makes it impossible for him to tell the stranger about everything that has happened since their first meeting.

 

_

 

Jihoon’s visits has become regular over the course of month, which makes everything relatively easier. Junhui allows himself to sink in a feeling of familiarity and comfort; seeing Jihoon’s face doesn’t paralyze him anymore, doesn’t make embarrassment get the best of him.

 

Casual conversations between the two of them make it possible for him to notice a few things; he recognizes a smile Jihoon has showed him in the first dream, spends too much time staring at fingers calloused from playing on instruments and ink on his hands. It feels like falling in love, but the fact is hidden deep inside Junhui’s mind as he decides not to dwell on it too much; self-induced suggestion is a powerful thing and surely the reason Junhui’s heart speeds up every time Jihoon enters the shop.

November comes like it always does and Jihoon invites Junhui to his birthday party. Although going out is not really Junhui’s thing, shyness keeping him from making friends (well, there’s Seungkwan, a fellow acting major; he’s approached Junhui on the first day and asked about his summer break as if they’ve been friends for years. Not much has changed). He immediately agrees.

 

_

 

On the day of the party Jihoon introduces him to Soonyoung and Wonwoo; according to his drunken words, closest friends of his. They smile at him as if they knew something Junhui doesn't, causing uneasiness to make home in his heart.

It’s the morning after when Junhui realizes the duo has appeared in one of his dreams; his head tells him they’re strangers, but his heart gives him warm feelings he can’t pinpoint to memories that could be the cause.

 

_

 

One day, Jihoon changes his usual order to the purple-filled bottle. The look on his face is casual, but there’s something off since he stutters a little and lets the fringe cover his face, hiding it from Junhui’s stare.

Junhui is taken off guard and surprisingly, a flirty comment remains unsaid. A thought of telling Jihoon the truth appears instead; it would definitely be a sensible decision, but he’s has never been the one to trust with making a smart choice.

 

_

 

The following night, Junhui dreams about the lines of Jihoon’s body, the sound of his moans and the way their bodies match perfectly. It should be flustering, but it isn’t. It feels familiar, somehow; in this reality, Junhui knows every curve of Jihoon’s body by heart. He’s touched him a hundred times before; his own heart acting as a proof, since it literally swells up every time Jihoon says his name.

When they both come down from their highs, Jihoon wraps him in a hug, one Junhui can’t avoid. The hold is too strong, but he doesn’t mind; it feels too familiar and warm, so he drifts off to sleep with a soft smile on his face.

 

_

 

Not long after, a loud knocking on the front door wakes him up in the middle of the night. Fear is the first thing Junhui feels, but inaudible voice can be heard; one that sounds too much like Jihoon, so Junhui drags himself from bed and, just in case, grabs a pepper spray before opening the door.

Jihoon just stands there, hair a complete mess and blush that has its roots in too much alcohol. Junhui sighs as he analyzes the situation; a drunk Jihoon is definitely not a sign of good news.

“How did you even get my address?” Junhui asks, playing dumb. There’s an overwhelming feeling in his chest, but he tries his best not to show it.

“Your coworker,” Jihoon answers, slurring words. “She’s really nice.”

A sigh escapes Junhui’s lips as he opens the door for Jihoon to enter. The air is thick and breathing is getting harder than it should, but it doesn’t stop Junhui from asking, “Would you like something to drink?”

Jihoon scoffs and shoots him an angry glare from the couch he’s sitting on. “Quit the bullshit, she’s told me everything.”

Junhui is paralyzed. Surely, his lovely coworker couldn't have done it since she has no idea about his inability to dream, but the fact that Jihoon has started appearing in his recent dreams might have slipped during one of their night shifts, mind too tired to stop itself from spilling the heart out.

“Look, I’ve been fucking dreaming about you for the past month and it’s getting ridiculous. What have you done to me, Junhui?” Jihoon tries his best not to raise his voice, but it’s a futile attempt. “Is it some type of your goddamn magic?”

“Wait, what the fuck, Jihoon? You think I would manipulate you?” Junhui answers, tone not matching the feeling of betrayal that fills his consciousness. His hands begin to shake but there’s no chance to calm himself down, to stop and think everything through.

“Listen, I know- I’ve been having those dreams too,” he adds, deciding it’s high time he told Jihoon everything he's been bottling up for the past few weeks. “Actually, I- I started dreaming after our first meeting,” he adds silently, avoiding Jihoon’s stare.

“What?”

“I couldn't dream for the most of my life, and then you came with your cute smile and I started dreaming,” Junhui says, fighting with himself. “I should have told you, I know, but isn't it ironic? A dream seller who’s unable to dream? I was so fucking scared.”

Jihoon just sighs; the lines of anger that cover his face ease up a little and he visibly calms down, standing up from the couch and approaching Junhui’s shaken figure.

“You’re an idiot,” he says, touching Junhui’s cheek softly, making the other man look him in the eye.

“I’m sorry.” Junhui says, letting himself calm down. His hand reaches for Jihoon’s smaller one, soft and warm despite the winter cold. “Magic may be my thing, but I really have no clue why these things happened.”

“No, it's me who’s sorry,” Jihoon answers. “I should have paid attention.”

The room is painfully quiet, but no more words need to be said. They both seem to be trapped between reality and dream, not knowing if there’s any need to voice out things they’ve felt during the times of confusion. It’s almost purifying, the way they both already know.

“Can I?” Jihoon asks, tracing Junhui’s lips with his finger.

When Junhui silently nods, Jihoon kisses him, making feelings from both of their dreams feel painstakingly real.

 

_

 

The next morning finds them lying in Junhui’s messy bed. Rays of the sun shine through the curtains as Jihoon puts his head on Junhui's chest, listening to his heartbeat as if it was the most beautiful sound. Maybe it is.

They spend hours eating blueberry pancakes Junhui has made and chatting about everything and nothing, saying things they both already know from their dreams. Junhui shares stories from his daily, dream-selling life; tells tales of magic and the way it makes him pleased, because it’s his way of making people happy. Jihoon watches him with a soft look on his face and goes on about the people he works with, nights he’s spent on the sofa in his unbearably small studio and fear he’s felt these past few months.

Evening settles in and city lights begin to illuminate the room as Junhui realizes everything looks too much like one of his dreams; but this time, it's finally a part of the world of reality.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm feeling extremely insecure about this piece but feedback is needed to make progress, right? 
> 
> thank you for reading!


End file.
